


giggles and crushes (and absolute mortification)

by jilliancares



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Crushes, Embarrassment, Empath, Love Confessions, M/M, Second-Hand Embarrassment, Secret Crush, and keith hasn't managed to feel embarrassed, and they agree to enter a simulation to draw out emotions, crush reveals, forced confession, they're on a planet full of empaths, yet - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-09
Updated: 2019-12-09
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:02:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21728737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jilliancares/pseuds/jilliancares
Summary: They just need to feel five strong emotions each, and then they'll be free from the simulation. That's it.Except Keith has yet to feel embarrassed.
Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Comments: 124
Kudos: 1709





	giggles and crushes (and absolute mortification)

**Author's Note:**

> uuuh hello everybody!!! i got The Urge today as you can see and this exploded out of me in one sitting. yes, i should be studying for my finals. no, i haven't done so yet. pls lmk what you think in the comments!!! feed me lmao!!!

“There’s no place like home, there’s no place like home, there’s no place like home…” Lance muttered.

“What are you doing,” Keith said flatly.

Lance opened his eyes, peeking at Keith. “Maybe, if I wish hard enough, I won’t have to endure this horrifically boring meeting.”

Keith snorted despite himself and elbowed Lance in the side. “No way you get to go back to the ship while we all have to listen to dignitaries drone on and on,” Keith said, and then Shiro was turning around and glaring at the two of them. Though they were whispering, the hallways were giant and echoing. No one else was talking.

A minute passed in silence before Lance bumped into Keith’s side purposefully. “I’m gonna try to sleep standing up,” he said, and something like a giggle escaped Keith, immediately stifled once Shiro glared at them again. But then Lance was making this choking sound like he was holding in laughter and then Keith was pressing a hand to his mouth and it wasn’t even that funny, why did he feel like he couldn’t breathe?

They managed to get themselves under control by the time they were led to the chamber. Inside was a huge, oval table with the king of the Masgots sitting at the head. Surprisingly, there were actually chairs for the rest of them and they greeted the king cordially before taking their seats.

Keith ended up across from Lance. This was good, because now he wouldn’t be tempted to entertain Lance and his whispered comments throughout the entire meeting. But it was also bad, because Lance would likely be making faces at him instead.

“Thank you all for coming,” the king said, his voice sort of... bubbly. All of these people spoke almost as if they were underwater.

“Thank you for having us,” Allura said. “I take it you’ve made a decision concerning our invitation?”

The Masgots were the latest allies they were trying to recruit into the coalition. They offered a great power, making them strong allies that Voltron wanted on their side, but they were at the edge of the galaxy, virtually unbothered by the Galra’s influence at all.

“It is true that to join the coalition would put our planet on the map, so to speak,” the king said slowly. “But if we were to help win the war... it would be good for others to know about us.”

Allura breathed a subtle sigh of relief, her shoulders losing their tension just a little bit. The king cleared his throat.

“However,” he said, causing them all to stiffen. “As you are well aware, my people feed on emotions.”

God, were they ever aware of it. Just getting off the ship on this planet the first time, they’d realized something was up. Immediately, they’d been surrounded by people. The crowd had made Keith a bit nervous, and apparently that emotion had been strong enough, as the people nearest to him had turned ravenous.

“Fighting in this war will drain them. They can’t fight and feed on the fear of their enemies at the same time, and I can’t allow them to starve out there.”

“Right...” Allura said slowly.

“I simply ask for each of you to provide some emotional fulfillment for my soldiers, if you will.”

They all exchanged careful looks. Shrugs.

“I think... that would be fine,” Allura had just finished saying when several servants hurried out, each holding some type of machine. Immediately, one of them began hooking it up to Keith, pressing sticky globs to his temples and wrapping metal sheets around his fingers.

“My people feed best on strong emotions,” the king continued. “Hatred, fear, embarrassment, depression. This simulation will simply draw these emotions from you, you understand.”

Keith was looking straight at Lance, who was raising a single eyebrow at him. He was pretty sure they were all thinking and not saying the same exact thing: _what exactly are we getting ourselves into?_

“Your majesty, if you don’t mind me asking, how long will this occur?” Shiro piped up.

“Minutes, at most,” the king answered. “However, it’ll likely feel longer than that while you’re under.”

“Of course it will,” Lance muttered, earning a smirk from Keith, and then the king was calling out a command and the servants were activating the machines. It felt like an electric shock, and the next moment Keith was no longer sitting at the table but standing in a big room, the walls pure white and raising endlessly. He couldn’t see the ceiling.

The rest of the team was there too, everyone standing in roughly the same place where they’d been sitting.

“He should’ve just given me this machine and ten minutes alone with my thoughts,” Lance immediately joked. “You know how many emotions I can go through without any stimulation at all?”

“I wish we could choose which emotion to give,” Hunk countered. “Like, just put on a video of puppies. Endless happiness, straight from my brain, everyone’s welcome.”

“I wonder if different emotions are like different flavors,” said Pidge. “Maybe that’s why they want a variety.”

“Keith just feeds them stoicism,” Lance snorted. “It tastes like white people food.”

“I resent that,” said Pidge.

“Me too,” said Keith. “I’m Korean.”

Lance cackled. “Not to mention _Galra_. I’m just teasing.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Keith said stoically, crossing his arms. Lance was still grinning at him, that stupid, soft one that he wore too often, and Keith knew he wasn’t feeding anyone bland, white people food. Not with the way his heart was beating.

“When does the simulation start?” Allura asked, looking around. She was squinting suspiciously at the ceiling.

“Maybe it’s already started,” Lance pointed out. “ _Maybe_ we’re all in different simulations right now _as we speak_. Oh my God, you’re all figments of my imagination.”

“Lance,” Keith said flatly.

Lance dragged his hands down his face, stretching his eyes wide. “ _You’re so in character_ ,” he whispered.

“Okay, no, I think this is real,” Shiro interrupted. “I mean, it’s definitely a simulation. But I think we’re all experiencing it together.”

“See, I don’t know whether to trust that,” Lance said accusingly, pointing at him.

“Something more has to happen, right?” Pidge demanded. “Like, this can’t be the whole simulation, having us talk until different emotions arise. Right?”

Before anyone could respond, there came a sound like thunder. And then it came again, except this time the ground was shaking. Fissures appeared, snaking across the floor, and Lance let out an over-dramatic, high-pitched scream.

“Pidge fucking jinxed it!” he yelled.

“Everyone remain calm,” Shiro instructed.

“Right, because the Masgots want us to remain calm,” Keith said sarcastically. “Shouldn’t we be panicking? Since we’re trying to actually feed them?”

Allura’s arms were crossed. “This is kind of… barbaric,” she decided.

The ground shook harder, and a loud _crack_ rent the air. The floor was split into three sections, each rumbling ominously. The section Lance was on was starting to rise minutely.

“Everyone choose a simulation buddy!” Lance suddenly shouted. And then he jumped off his piece of land and onto Keith’s, grabbing his arm. “I call Keith! He was wilderness skills.”

“Rude,” said Hunk.

“Sorry buddy, ily a milly,” Lance said, blowing him a kiss.

Keith wondered if maybe Lance had been right, and every single part of this _was_ a simulation. Seeing as Lance had chosen him out of everyone.

And then, without any further warning, their piece of land shot into the sky. Thank God there wasn’t a ceiling, otherwise they would’ve been crushed in seconds. As it was, the two of them had been knocked off their feet, both of them pressed against the piece of land as it shot through the air.

“Fuck this fuck this fuck this,” Lance was saying, his voice close to Keith’s ear, and deciding that this was likely just a simulation, Keith grabbed his hand. Lance held on tight for what felt like minutes but was probably only seconds before they finally came to a stop. Their piece of land remained hovering in midair, side by side with some sort of cliff. This part of the simulation was no longer blindingly white. Green grass and brown dirt decorated the edge of the cliff, which turned into a forest further back.

“Guess this is our stop,” Lance said, getting shakily to his feet. “You _do_ have wilderness skills, right?”

“I mean. Yeah,” Keith said. “I lived on my own for three years in the desert. Also, I was a boy scout when I was a kid.” He’d just taken a step onto the cliff, but immediately Lance was clutching onto his arm, and he jerked, thinking that Lance had noticed some new source of terror seconds before him.

But, “You were a _boy scout_?!” was all Lance said.

Keith shrugged, starting to get embarrassed. “My dad thought it’d be good for me. Help me make friends, or something.”

“That’s adorable,” Lance said fondly. “Did they teach you how to tie knots and stuff?”

“I mean, probably. I was pretty young, Lance. I don’t really remember it that well.”

“Well, with your boy scout skills and my ability to sometimes be able to catch a fish — at least if my dad sets up the line first — I’m sure we’ll survive out here in the rugged wilderness.”

“I doubt we’ll have time to get hungry,” Keith pointed out. “I mean, we’ll only be here for a few minutes in real time.”

Lance pouted. “So you’re telling me we’re about to just walk into a forest for no reason, then?” He crossed his arms. “I wanted to build a shelter.”

“Let’s just focus on feeling emotions,” Keith said, and then realized what he said, and they were both cackling. Lance’s hands were on his knees, and he was bent over, struggling to catch his breath.

“I n- _never_ thought I’d hear you say _that_ ,” he spat out, gasping in breaths in between words. Keith felt tears forming in his eyes. He was laughing so hard his abs hurt.

“Focus,” Keith laughed, his lungs aching. “Emotions.”

_“I know!”_

And then, while they were still busy laughing, the cliff crumbled under Lance. He screamed, and plummeted, and Keith’s breath was stolen from him entirely and he was sprinting towards the edge and — _it’s a simulation, it’s not real, it’s not real, it’s not real_ — Lance was hanging over the edge. His hands were grasping this root that was sticking out of the side of the cliff and his feet were dangling free, the cliff having disappeared beneath him, leaving no place for him to try to plant them.

“Holy shit, fuck,” Keith was saying.

“It’s a simulation, it’s — simulation,” Lance was panting, his eyes darting around in a panic. Hanging off a cliff had to be pretty terrifying, simulation or not.

“I’ve got you,” Keith said, his heart thundering a beat in his chest and he laid down on the ground, scooting over the edge and reaching for Lance.

“Fucking fuck,” Lance was saying. “It won’t hurt if I fall, right? It can’t. It’s a simulation.”

“Shut the fuck up and grab my hand,” Keith snapped, and Lance heaved himself upward. Even through his jacket, Lance’s muscles were pronounced, his biceps straining as he lifted himself up the root solely with the use of his arms. Keith shook his head and resented himself and silently told himself to snap the fuck out of it as he reached further down, catching Lance’s hand in his the second he latched on.

Keith planted one hand on the ground, pushing with that hand and pulling Lance with the other, dragging them both up and onto the cliff. Soon Lance’s feet had purchase and he could scramble up more easily, the both of them tumbling back to safety with panting breaths. Lance collapsed partially on top of Keith, his body trembling from either fear or exertion as his chest heaved.

“Fuck this simulation,” Lance muttered. “Doesn’t even—" he panted “—feel fake.”

“It’s gotta be almost over,” Keith said. “How many emotions have we felt?”

Lance frowned. “One?” he guessed. “Terrified?”

“And whatever emotion laughter is,” Keith pointed out.

“Elation,” Lance decided. “But that’s not fair — we’ve been terrified twice.”

“We have?” Keith asked.

“Yeah! Being fucking ROCKETED into the sky, and then me almost _dying_.”

“I wasn’t really scared when we were being shot into the sky, though,” Keith pointed out.

Lance sat up on one elbow, glaring at him. “So does that mean it’s your fault I almost fake-died? Do me a favor and just feel terrified the next time you’re supposed to.”

“Well, now that we’ve both felt terrified, we probably won’t have to feel that again.”

Lance groaned, dragging himself to his feet. “Whatever. Let’s just — let’s go.”

Keith got to his feet, following Lance, but they’d only taken two steps towards the forest when the scene changed. Suddenly, they were standing in the back of a classroom. One Keith recognized.

Keith got the distinct feeling that he was seeing a scene from the past, though he didn’t see himself in the classroom. He must’ve had it during a different period.

“Mr. McClain,” the professor said. “If you’d come answer the question on the board.”

“Oh my God,” Lance blurted suddenly, just as Keith’s eyes locked onto a younger Lance — maybe fourteen — sitting towards the back of the classroom. His body tensed as he was called on, and the professor repeated herself.

Suddenly, Keith had a hand pressed against his face. Lance’s fingers were over his eyes, and when Keith tried to swat him away Lance just pulled him against his chest, securing his hand more tightly over his eyes. “No, nope, you’re not watching this.”

“Um. I don’t know it,” a younger, squeakier Lance said.

“Come and try,” the professor said.

“What the hell,” Keith said. “Why can’t I watch?”

“Let’s just say that fourteen-year-old Lance did _not_ have good control over his body. God, this is humiliating.”

There came the sound of a chair being pushed out, and then someone snorted. There were a few snickers across the classroom, and Keith could feel Lance stiffen behind him. This was probably one of those memories that he cringed at every time he thought about it.

“Stuff like this happens to everyone,” Keith said comfortingly. “I doubt any of these people even remember this anymore.”

Lance heaved out a breath — Keith could feel the movement of his chest against his back, and the feel of his breath against his neck. His face felt warm, and he relaxed against Lance, just subtly. It felt nice. They rarely stood this close together. The last time it’d happened they’d been hiding in the maintenance closet of a Galra ship, and Keith had had a hole blown in his abdomen, so. That had definitely been less enjoyable.

“Have I said fuck this simulation yet?” Lance muttered, but then he dropped his hand from Keith’s eyes and Keith blinked, realizing the scene had changed.

They were standing in the castle ship, and the door before them was open. They shared a glance before walking towards it.

On the other side was Coran. He was standing where Allura usually stood to control the ship, except something about his posture seemed… odd. As they watched, something red dripped to land between his feet. And then he made a coughing sound, and he fell to his knees.

“Coran!” Lance yelled out, and Keith was on his heels, because it felt too real. This was where they’d left Coran on their way to the planet for their meeting, and now he was bleeding, and—

“My boy,” Coran greeted, and it was that same smile on his same face but it looked so _wrong_. Twisted and gruesome and so full of pain. There was a knife sticking out of his stomach, and his fingers were curled around it.

“God, fuck,” Keith was saying. “Just — stay calm, we’ll get you to a pod—"

Coran laughed weakly. “It’s no use,” he said, and then his hands fell to the floor, and his body slumped to the side, and Keith saw the handle of the blade protruding from his stomach.

His blade.

“Fuck,” Keith muttered.

“—simulation,” Lance was saying, but there was a roaring in Keith’s ears. He reached towards the back of his suit, where he always kept his knife, but it wasn’t there, of course it wasn’t there, it was _sticking out of Coran_ —

“What did you do?” someone said weakly. Keith turned, and there was Pidge. Hunk was beside her, and they were staring at him in horror, and Keith let out a sob. How could he have done this? _Why_?

“Okay, that’s _enough_ of this emotion!” Lance shouted. “Everyone snap out of it! It’s a simulation, Coran isn’t really dead.”

Keith sucked in a breath. Right. Lance was right. This wasn’t — none of this was real. He wasn’t a murderer. It was fine.

“You okay?” Lance said, and Keith realized he was right by his side, rubbing his shoulder, and Keith managed a nod.

“Yeah,” he said, except it came out kind of like a croak. “Yeah, let’s just. Let’s go.”

So they left the room with Pidge and Hunk, Keith still catching his breath.

“According to my device, most of us are done,” Pidge said.

“What?” said Lance. “Done with what?”

“How the fuck did you make a device?” Keith said.

“All the tools were there,” Pidge said with a shrug. And then her eyes grew dark. “Of course, it was ruined right as I was putting on the finishing touches—"

“ _Pidge_ ,” Hunk said, and Pidge visibly forced herself to calm down.

“Whatever. It’s done now,” she said grumpily. And then she looked down at the tablet she’d apparently built in-simulation.

“Now that Hunk and I saw Keith fake-murdering Coran, we’ve felt our quota of emotions. You need at least five different, strong emotions to fill up the emotion canisters we’re attached to.”

“Are we done?” Lance asked.

Pidge tapped a few buttons. “Lance, you’re done. You’ve felt panic — uh, twice — elation, mortification, and then depression.”

“WHOOP!” Lance cheered. “In-touch-with-his-emotions boy!”

“Right,” Pidge said absently. “Keith, you’re still missing an emotion.”

“Does stoicism not count?” Lance joked. Keith elbowed him.

“You’ve felt terror, elation, adoration, and then depression.”

“What the _fuck_ was there to adore in this simulation,” Lance said, and Keith choked on his spit. Hunk slapped him on the back unhelpfully.

“Um,” Keith said.

Pidge pointed the device at him, and it beeped as it scanned him. “Okay, so you were supposed to feel mortification but didn’t,” Pidge said. “Something about boy scouts?”

“Why should I be embarrassed by that?” Keith asked.

“Keith, what did we say about feeling the emotions we’re supposed to feel? If you’re supposed to panic, then panic!”

“But I’m supposed to be embarrassed.”

“You’re impossible,” Lance groaned, just as Allura and Shiro came barreling out of a door and then skidding to a stop, examining their surroundings with surprise.

“Oh, we’re here,” Allura panted.

Pidge’s device beeped. “And you’re both done! Nice. Now we just need one of Keith’s brain cells to feel an emotion.”

“Hey!” Keith snapped, while Lance laughed.

“How the hell did you make that?” Shiro said, eyeing Pidge’s tablet. She glared.

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” she muttered, and then she clicked something and tossed the tablet aside, though it didn’t matter. There was a screen projected in the air.

Pidge’s scan must’ve included a picture function, because there was a picture of Keith projected, looking just as he looked right then — his arms crossed, his expression settled into a glower, and his weight shifted to just one leg, his hip cocked out as a result. Lance glanced between the real Keith and the projection Keith twice before absolutely losing it, leaning against Keith’s side as he outright cackled.

Beside the picture of the projected Keith was a bar. It was filled with four different colors, each labeled. There was a chunk of elation, which was yellow, and a good amount of terror, which was purple. Above that was an embarrassing amount of pink (adoration) followed by a deep blue, from his freak-out about Coran. A good third of the emotion-bar remained unfilled, waiting for another emotion.

“Wait, we’re just waiting on Keith?” Shiro asked, looking between the projection and Keith. He managed to not break down laughing. Lance was still giggling beside Keith.

“Yep,” Pidge said dryly.

“I didn’t try not to feel things!” Keith protested.

“Why don’t you just tell us something embarrassing?” Allura suggested.

“I can’t think of anything,” Keith said, which at the moment was true. He felt like anytime they gathered to play stupid games in the rec room he could never think of good answers for questions like this. Who the hell could remember something like their most embarrassing moment? Who even catalogued things like that? Why would you rank embarrassing moments instead of suppressing them and forgetting about them entirely?

“Come oooon, Keith, you saw my—" Lance suddenly cut himself off, realizing he didn’t need to admit to the group what exactly they’d witnessed. “Classroom situation.”

“Oof,” Hunk said in immediate understanding.

“Technically, I didn’t see it,” Keith pointed out.

“If you don’t tell us something embarrassing, the simulation’s probably gonna continue,” Pidge pointed out. “Is that really what you want?”

“Of course not!” Keith said. “I just can’t think of anything—"

And then the scene was changing. Because of course it was. God fucking dammit.

Suddenly, Keith was standing on a stage under blinding lights. He looked out into the crowd, and he couldn’t make out anyone out there except for his friends, who were all sitting front row.

“Welcome, welcome!” a man in the middle of the stage said. He didn’t have legs, instead his body tapered off like a cartoon ghost, and he was floating. “I’m your host, Generic Name, and lucky Keith here is our contestant!”

“Boo!” Lance shouted from the audience. “Come up with a better name!”

Keith snorted. Seriously, was the simulation broken? Or could it really just not come up with random characters?

The host appeared unaffected by the heckling.

“Keith,” he said gravely. “Please choose a category.”

A board behind Keith lit up. He squinted. Each card said, ‘Embarrassing Truths.’

“Um. I’ll take Embarrassing Truths for 500.”

“Great choice,” said the host. He held up a card. “Keith! Is it true that you have a crush on one of your teammates?”

Keith felt his face redden. Suddenly, Pidge’s projection was on the board next to the cards, and it was steadily filling up with a new emotion. Mortification.

“Um,” Keith said. He glanced to the crowd, and now his friends were staring in rapt fascination. Fuck. Was is possible that they really were part of the simulation? “No,” Keith lied.

The screen flashed red, accompanied by a blaring alarm, and the host laughed.

“Oh, wrong answer!” he said, sounding falsely sympathetic. “That’s negative 500 dollars! Please, choose another card.”

Now Keith was glowering. “Truths That Are Embarrassing,” he growled. “300.”

“Ohoho! Risky!”

“Shut the fuck up,” Keith muttered, going unheard.

“Keith!” the host said, intent on yelling his name at the beginning of every sentence. “How long have you had this crush on your teammate? Is it A) a few months, B) a year, C) since you’ve been in space, or D) since _before_ space?” The host’s eyebrows waggled.

“None of the above,” Keith growled out, the embarrassment bar creeping ever higher, and the host laughed.

“Come on!” he said. “You had a 25% chance of getting that one right! Oh well, you’ll make a comeback in the bonus round!”

“Fuck this,” Keith snapped, and he turned and walked off the stage. For a second, it felt like he was walking through Jell-O, and then he blinked and he was right back on the stage again, standing behind the podium. His gripped the podium in anger, his knuckles turning white around the rim.

His friends were all still watching from the crowd, though now they looked sympathetic rather than entertained.

With any luck, Keith’s emotion bar would fill up with this next question. Maybe he’d be able to walk out of here with everyone knowing that he had a crush, yes, but not knowing who it was. It’d be horrible, knowing that all of them _knew_ , but at least they wouldn’t know who exactly it was. Keith could live with that. He could make himself live with that.

“Next question!” the host cheered. “That crush that you have—"

“You didn’t let me choose!” Keith blurted.

“They’re all the same! Now, that crush that you have on one of your teammates. Is it, A) Lance, B) Lance, C) Lance, or D) Lance.”

Keith’s heart stopped. He couldn’t make himself look at Lance, which was good, because he didn’t want to. He was standing frozen behind the podium, and the host was floating in the middle of the stage, grinning, and behind Keith, the projection of him was going haywire. It filled up to the brim, and then it overflowed, his embarrassment shooting upward and out of the projection entirely.

The next moment, he found himself sitting in his chair, staring directly at Lance’s shocked face. He felt hot all over, itchy with embarrassment, and _fuck_ this.

Keith yanked the globs off his temples and shook the metal sheets off his fingers as he stood.

“Keith—” Allura blurted, and the king let out a hearty laugh.

“Our troops will certainly eat well,” he was saying, but his voice was already an echo behind Keith because he’d left the chamber, was stalking down the hall. If he walked fast enough, he could escape his embarrassment, surely.

Wow. Maybe this is how people charted their most embarrassing moments. He’d be sitting in the rec room and they’d be playing truth or dare and he’d pick truth, solely because he was tired of having to stand up for the dares, and Hunk would be like, “Keith, what’s the most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to you?” and Keith would be like, “Oh, definitely that time when my crush on Lance was revealed in front of the entire team, that’s probably it.”

Fuck.

Keith burst out of the building, and there were some Masgots milling around out front and they noticed him immediately, because he was definitely still radiating embarrassment and fuck this. How could you politely tell a species of empaths to not eat your emotions, please?

Keith stalked around the building, into a courtyard, where thankfully no one was around. He plopped onto the ground and pulled out his knife and picked up a stick and just started chopping it up, because he needed to do something with his hands and preferably never think ever again. He did not want to think about what it was going to be like tonight, facing all of his friends. He did not want to think about having to look Lance in the eyes. He did not want to think about stupid, kind, noble Lance who would probably want to _talk_ about this, to clear the air and let Keith down gently.

Maybe everyone would do him the favor of just pretending that this hadn’t happened. And enough time would pass that they wouldn’t be thinking about it every time they so much as looked at him. Or maybe it would just become commonplace, the kind of general knowledge where they could mention it offhandedly, as if hearing anything referring to his feelings about Lance out loud wouldn’t be cause for him to shrivel up and die right on the spot.

“There you are,” said an unfortunately familiar voice, and Keith was on his feet in an instant, holding a knife in one hand and a very sharply whittled stick in the other.

“Oh, fuck, don’t stab me,” Lance said, mostly joking, with his hands in the air.

“I wasn’t going to stab you,” Keith said, even though the thought had technically crossed his mind. “You just startled me.”

“Ah, yes, I can be very startling,” Lance joked. “That’s how I defeat my enemies, you know. I just fuckin’ — startle ‘em to death.”

It was the kind of joke that would usually make Keith laugh, but instead of amused he just felt embarrassed. He should’ve left that contraption hooked up — he could feed these people for generations.

Lance came closer, and Keith grew stiffer. He dropped the stick, just in case he really did get the inclination to stab the man he was in love with, and tucked the knife back into his suit.

“Look,” Lance said carefully, standing directly in front of Keith, who was staring just above his ear. He couldn’t imagine looking into Lance’s eyes right now. In fact, he was trying very hard to imagine that he wasn’t even really talking to Lance currently, and that would be impossible if he was staring into his eyes. Keith saw those eyes in his sleep.

God, fuck, here it came. Lance was going to break it to him gently. Keith really thought he’d have a bit more time to wallow in pity before it happened. He sucked in a breath, and then he forced himself to look into Lance’s eyes, if only because Lance would likely never stand this close to him again.

“Keith,” Lance began again. “I know what happened in there was — horrible.”

Right in the heart. Just — stabbed. Keith was tempted to look down, because he’d definitely just been pierced through the heart.

“Like, that’s probably the worst way for your crush to figure out you like them.”

Jesus Christ. Keith never wanted to hear Lance say the word ‘crush’ again. It was just too mortifying. Maybe Keith should’ve killed him when he had the chance.

“And Keith, if you want, we can just… forget that ever happened. I won’t mention it again, and we can carry on like normal, no big deal.”

“No big deal,” Keith muttered, numb. Right. He was absolutely ejecting himself into space tonight.

“Or,” Lance said, sucking in a breath. “Or we could. We could _not_ forget it.”

And then his hand was in Keith’s hand. Like, fingers intertwined, palms warm and pressed together and both a little sweaty, which should definitely be gross, but for some reason wasn’t. Keith looked down at their hands — his pale, calloused one — pressed right up against Lance’s. Lance’s hand, which he must’ve stared at a million times, with his bitten nails and warm skin.

Keith looked back up at Lance, whose cheeks were tinged pink. His eyes were darting between Keith’s and to the side, and he looked embarrassed. And also kind of hopeful. Could he hear Keith’s heart pounding?

“What?” Keith finally managed.

“Look, if we’re gonna forget about what happened in there, then we’re also gonna forget about this,” Lance blurted, and then he squeezed Keith’s hand, as if to remind him what exactly _this_ was. “But, like, if you want to remember it…” he shrugged, and Keith’s hand bounced upward with Lance’s. Holy fuck. He was never going to let go. He was just gonna hold onto Lance’s hand for the rest of all time. Was that allowed?

“Um,” Keith said softly. “I want to remember it?” It came out sounding like a question, but that was only because he was so confused. He felt like this couldn’t really be happening. Maybe he was actually still in the simulation, and he was being played like a fucking fiddle, and he’d wake up and hate that king with all his guts and then he’d sulk for the next few days before moving on.

But Lance let out a breathless laugh, and Keith could feel it — could feel Lance’s _laugh_ — against his own lips. And then Lance was leaning forward, and Keith closed his eyes, because surely they were going to kiss, but then Lance’s forehead was pressed against his. Lance was just leaning against him. And he was giggling. He’d pulled their hands up, and they were pressed against Lance’s chest. His other hand had come up too, so he was gripping Keith’s hand with both of his, and Keith found himself reaching out for Lance. His fingers found his belt loop, and he just. Held on.

“I can’t believe this is how it happened,” Lance giggled.

“What?” Keith asked.

“Like, I never let myself believe that you liked me back,” Lance said, and his eyes were open now. He was staring right into Keith’s, and wow, this was even closer than they’d been moments before. He thought he knew Lance’s eyes, but he really didn’t. They were like… every shade of blue. “And then suddenly I’m at a gameshow where I’m all the answers?”

“God, don’t remind me,” Keith said, already stiffening as embarrassment crept back into his spine.

Lance tutted. “You’re really bad at trivia, Kogane. The answers were so _obvious_. I think you owe the show money, now.”

“Lance,” Keith whined, and he was partly just complaining about having to talk about something so embarrassing, but he was also kind of complaining about the fact that they’d been this close for this long and had still yet to kiss.

“Keith,” Lance countered, and then he was leaning back, though only so he could readjust and lean in again. This time, their lips collided, and it was perfect. Lance abandoned Keith’s hand to instead grip his face, one hand sliding into his hair and the other cupping his jaw, his fingers framing his ear, his nails scratching lightly against his scalp, and fuck, Keith was shivering.

He gripped the front of Lance’s shirt, simply because he needed something to hold onto, and then he was giggling against Lance’s mouth. Because, yeah, this was the weirdest way for this to fucking happen. Like, a gameshow?

Lance must’ve been on the same train of thought, because even though he kept trying to continue the kiss, pecking Keith’s lips between giggles, he soon broke down too. And then they were laughing against each other, clinging to one another as they struggled to breathe, giggling madly in the courtyard of a planet at the edge of the galaxy.


End file.
